“That I couldn’t tell you, either.”
“Really! But when?”
“The night of the party—when Diana was drowned. She was driving the cattle up the hill, and I went after her—you remember.”
“Yes, I remember. But what made her do that? You didn’t definitely ask her for it, I suppose?”
“I? No, not that I know of. I merely said to her, that it was dangerous to drive those Highland bullocks—as it is. She turned in such a way, and said—‘I suppose you think I’m afraid of you and your cattle, don’t you?’ So I asked her ‘why,’ and for answer she flung me a back-hander across the face.”
Birkin laughed quickly, as if it pleased him. Gerald looked at him, wondering, and began to laugh as well, saying:
“I didn’t laugh at the time, I assure you. I was never so taken aback in my life.”
“And weren’t you furious?”
“Furious? I should think I was. I’d have murdered her for two pins.”
“H’m!” ejaculated Birkin. “Poor Gudrun, wouldn’t she suffer afterwards for having given herself away!” He was hugely delighted.